Dress Suits and Lavender Gowns
by Blackfire 18
Summary: James' mind wanders from the card match as he spies Vesper's staged entrance in the dress he chose for her, mind you for a kiss he has been waiting for all evening. He plans to return it as well...whether she likes it or not.


**Dress Suits and Lavender Gowns**

**Disclaimer: I do not own James Bond: Casino Royale or any of the characters there within, etc.**

It took some time, but James trusted his taste and instinct when choosing gowns for women—and he had a specific gown in mind when thinking of Miss Lynd. He picked up one dress, a frilly thing with enough trimming lace to make a woman look like a molting goose. He rejected it immediately. He chose another, a royal blue with an unassuming pattern of sequins running slimming lines down from the hip. The plunging neckline brought a wry smile to his face as he visualized the accountant in it, cleavage and all. Then his own mind did him in as the imagined Miss Lynd smacked him across the face. Kowtowing to the, ahem, striking vision; he placed the dress back. He searched awhile longer until he found one that would fit her perfectly. A lavender dress, simple yet elegant, with a nice satin sheen to it. A stylish latticework of crimped lace provided the only cover for the back, and James was still pleased at the drop of the neckline, though not as promiscuous as the first, it was satisfactory. Yes, this was the one.

Walking up to the counter, he handed the gown to the clerk. She gave him a friendly smile and accepted the dress.

"Do you need specific measurements?"

The man stared at the clerk, but his eyes had glazed over. He was back on the bullet train, watching the figure of Ms. Lynd, all in black, sauntering away from him directly after their pleasant conversation.

"106, 83, 112." The clerk looked impressed as he rattled off the measurements without hesitation and she moved towards the back room shrouded by a heavy cream curtain.

"I will see that the dress matches your specifications." She said to him, handing the dress to another woman in the back and came back to the counter, reaching for a book of appointment listings and snapping a pen. "Where shall I have it delivered?"

James gave the clerk all of his information and asked that it be delivered that afternoon. The clerk told him it would cost extra for the short time limit and James readily agreed to it.

He paid for the dress and the clerk handed over the assignment to the same woman that had taken the dress, both smiling slyly at him all the while. His lady friend would be in for a pleasant surprise. James returned the clerk's grin with a subtly impish one of his own. The woman waved after him with wishes of good fortune and a fine day. He nodded and walked out.

The morning air was refreshingly cool and crisp as he headed back to the hotel. His mind wandered to the woman he would soon give the new dress to and he smiled despite himself. He could just see the look on her face now.

* * *

James calmly unfurled the dress that had just been delivered and walked directly to the room that connected with his. Hearing soft clicks and taps from the bathroom, he knocked politely at the door.

"Yes?"

James smiled to himself like a schoolboy about to play a devious trick on his best friend. He stepped around the doorway to spy Miss Lynd, not entirely decent, applying make up for the evening. In an effort to remain polite despite his initial stare, he lifted the gown so it was in plain view of the mirror before hanging it on the hook behind the door.

"For you."

He began to make his exit, but not before catching her startled expression. Her next words halted him mid-stride.

"Something you expect me to wear?"

James paused before returning back. No, he bought the dress to seduce the maid, honestly, accountants had no imagination—despite what said party claimed. And James had an extraordinary plan tagged to this dress and the card game which required to be precisely executed, with her at its head. Or…perhaps she had seen the neckline.

"I need you looking fabulous. So that when you come downstairs and kiss me on the neck, the players across from you will be looking at your neckline and not at their cards." James stifled his smile once more as one of her eyebrows rose slightly. "Can you do that for me?"

She paused in her answer. James wondered just how much his cheek would be stinging had he bought the blue dress. His mind blanked when she glanced at him from the reflection of the mirror, the barest of smiles on her lips.

"I'll do my best."

Good. She was being cooperative. James smiled.

"Thank you."

Unfortunately, he spoke too soon. Striding confidently back into his side of the suite, he saw a black item on the edge of his bed. It may not have been wrapped in plastic, but he recognized what the casing contained. He deftly unzipped the cover and discovered a dinner jacket within. James' brow furrowed. The jacket had been tailored. Holding the offending tux piece in two fingers, he stalked back to the dividing door. Not bothering to knock, he entered the bathroom, holding the jacket up for the woman to see, as though scolding a friend for buying him a gift he already owned.

"I have a dinner jacket."

Miss Lynd turned to face him, unabashed at his rude entrance or implied accusation.

"There are dinner jackets and dinner jackets," she pointed to the new jacket with the end of her eye shadow brush. "This is the latter. And I need you looking like a man that belongs at that table." She turned back to the mirror and began to brush color lightly above her eye.

"How—" James began and thought better of it. Such a direct inquiry would surely result in insult. Stemming both irritation and curiosity from reaching his tongue (and not quite succeeding), he tried again. "It's tailored."

"I sized you up the moment we met." She said with an airy tone that suggested her concentration was better spent on the precise placement of her make-up rather than devoting clear responses to James' questions. But James did not miss the note of arrogance in her tone either. Unable to respond to the quip with a barb of his own, James gave a last, withering glare to the woman.

_We'll see that it doesn't fit._ He thought grimly.

He threw the hanger on his bed and roughly shrugged into the new jacket. Satin lining, excellent trim; James had to admit the accountant had taste. The jacket fell perfectly on his shoulders and neatly down his sides. A sudden care swept over him as he adjusted the cuffs around his wrists and walked towards the mirror.

The jacket was a perfect fit.

_I'll be damned._

And what was more, he looked positively dashing in it. Each line was sharp and accented his physique. He turned to the side to examine the jacket from that angle as well and the results there was just as satisfying. James would not have admitted it, but he was impressed at how well Miss Lynd had done choosing the jacket.

Unable to find fault with the tuxedo, he moved closer to the mirror to see what could be done about his bowtie. He tugged the bow tighter and was only mildly startled by the tinkling laugh that reached his ears. Glancing to his left, he found that Miss Lynd had taken the time out of her busy agenda to grace him with her presence. Again the smile came so freely and easily to James; a smile that said so much and meant only what the receiver would make of it. But Vesper seemed to read his mind no matter how he smiled. He would allow her that pat on the back if she was so inclined as he turned back to the mirror to finish with the bowtie he had nearly forgotten about in those blue eyes.

He studied himself a moment more before he was entirely satisfied and returned to the divider between the suite.

"Are we ready?" James said condescendingly but with an innocent smile. He already knew he asked the impossible. Vesper had moved on to rouge.

"Not hardly. Great things come with patience." She tilted back slightly from the mirror to study her work, turning her head lightly from side to side before returning to it.

"Even as patient as I am, I fear you would withhold me indefinitely from the proceedings." He shrugged lightly to accent his jab at her slow but steady hand.

"Heaven forbid they begin the game without the guest of honor," she returned with a sting of her own that made James smile. "Go on then. I'll find you."

"It's just down the street, so no need to take the Martin." He made for the door and suppressed the smile that arose from the jibe about her quiet admiration for the sleek vehicle. Vesper ignored the suggestion.

"Don't forget your invitation."

Outside of the bathroom James checked his pockets and came up shorthanded.

"Of course not." He said as coolly as he could while he hurriedly checked the dresser and desk for the missing invitation. He found the card buried beneath a room service menu that he had glanced through a few hours ago. Triumphant he called back through the open door. "Don't be too long, the game will be over before you reach the table."

She had no ready retort for this and James shut the door before she could reply.

He smiled.

* * *

The game was already well underway, everyone had settled in their places, a hush had fallen over the bystanders, over half the table folded their hands so that only four remained, and now it was Le Chiffre's turn again. The man opposite Bond was locked in a battle of wills as each tried to stare the other into submission. The flop laid bare to the table, but the turn or river could save a man from imminent loss to instant gratification. Le Chiffre was searching James' face for weakness, strain, some tell that would translate Bond's bluff before he placed his bet, but James was not giving the other man an inch of breathing room. The deadlock might have lasted a good deal longer when a splash of lavender moved across the background in the corner of his eye. His blue gaze flickered towards the source of the murmuring disturbance in the crowd and his heart began to palpitate. There, moving gracefully among the tables, elegantly fashioned and bejeweled…

_Vesper_.

She was beautiful.

Bond's trained eyes made a brief once over of the woman and he shook hands victoriously with his ego; the dress he had chosen could not have suited her better. It hugged every voluptuous curve and accentuated every long stride, just hinting at the slender legs hidden beneath. From the perfect seam at her waist to the heady influence of her, ahem, other assets were, succinct to say, stimulating. James felt the corner of his mouth curling into the barest of smiles. She purposefully swayed her way to the table.

Taking advantage of Bond's inattention, Le Chiffre placed his bet. James turned back to monitoring his adversary, but the staring battle had been lost as the man placed his chips and James angrily leaned back into his seat. Vesper was supposed to come in from the opposite side so she could use her feminine wiles to interfere at precisely that moment; stopping Le Chiffre from making the call. But the entire plan had backfired. Instead of Le Chiffre growing wide-eyed and incoherent, it was Bond who had completely lost his train of thought at her entrance. Damn.

Vesper had reached him at last, placing a languid hand on the back of his chair and leaning down to kiss him. James had to concentrate to not let his eyes follow the crevice creeping alluringly down her chest, as she disobeyed him yet again. Her warm lips lightly pressed his cheek rather than his neck. These independent types were so intolerably rebellious. So…attractively rebellious. But she wasn't going to get away with it.

"Weren't you supposed to enter so the others could see you?" James asked pointedly; admonishing a petulant child.

"Was I? Forgive me." She murmured low enough so only he could hear, her hot, sweet breath washing over his lips and he was seized with the notion to close the distance between them, but the current in her words stopped him. There was that sarcastic undertone in her voice again, unmistakable. She knowingly spoiled his plans and her striking, elaborately painted eyes spoke volumes. _So hard to please, are we?_ She seemed to say, but quietly, without complaint, she slipped back into the role and stood up. "Good luck, darling." She said a little more boldly so all at the table and a bit beyond could hear, her voice smooth and sultry. Vesper left the table to join Mathis at the bar. James' eyes were among the many that followed her back as she swayed away, her dark curls bouncing, devouring that sweeping backline of the lavender dress…Maybe James had chosen a little too well.

"It's up to you, Monsieur Bond. Monsieur Bond?"

James had to tear himself away from the sensuous sight as the dealer broke through his thoughts.

"Oh, I'm sorry, what was the bet? Hundred-thousand?" James carelessly threw the chip onto the table, his mind still not quite back on the game. Le Chiffre suddenly mattered less for a moment. His plan had backfired all right. But, there might be a way to ratify the ruse after all. The final card was shown. A deuce. Le Chiffre bet again and James called. Le Chiffre won, though barely. The full house had only been made with the last card. James folded his hand; he would have won had it not been for the deuce. But no matter, no matter. He had found a tell in the man that sat across from him and it would certainly come in handy later.

For the moment, he could really use a drink.

"Send the barman over, please."

The curator snapped his fingers and the barman came.

"Dry martini." James said when his thoughts changed. Vesper was here, watching, and Le Chiffre was listening, so why not do something interesting? "Wait." He said before the barman could leave with his order. "Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of lillet, shake it over ice and add a thin slice of lemon peel."

The barman paused trying to recollect the rapid-fire recipe of this new order in his mind before agreeing. He started to move off when there was a sudden surge of voices around the table.

"You know, I'll have one of those."

"So will I."

"Certainly." The barman dipped his head and continued on his way before being stopped for yet another order of the drink, this one from the American.

"My friend, bring me one as well. Keep the fruit."

James felt a sudden kinship towards the table; he wasn't the only one to feel that it was to be an intense game, and apparently he was gifted towards making mixed drinks. Le Chiffre however, was all but removed from the camaraderie.

"That's it? Hmm? Anyone want to play poker now?" he asked with accusing impatience across the table. The American who had ordered last smiled and spoke up.

"Someone's in a hurry." He glanced at James and the two exchanged knowing smiles while Le Chiffre turned to his inhaler for reassurance. This would be an excellent time to put the new plan into sway.

"Would you excuse me?" James nodded towards the dealer and stood from his seat, making his way over to the bar—and Vesper. This would give Le Chiffre something to watch. Her sharp blue eyes were watching him like a cat at his approach, a questioning look hovering in them, but he did not break stride and she had suddenly stiffened. Had she fur and a tail she would have made a right regular puffball. He was coming too close. When he had gotten within arms reach of her, her eyes had widened perceptibly and he closed in for the kill. His hands slipped over the curve of her hip to the small of her back. He pushed firmly but gently and she rose against him, her body pressing against his, and he lunged down to capture her lips with his own. He was met with no resistance. She must have still been playing the part, or recovering from the shock. Her soft, malleable lips were warm and tasted of strawberries. Strawberries and cream. The taste provoked images of his childhood to flash in quick succession through his mind, when suddenly he was back again; forcing a beautiful woman to arch up against him for a kiss she had teased him for. Her eyes were still reprovingly open when he pulled away. Something about this look made her irresistible. He wanted to savor her again.

"You taste nice." He murmured.

"I thought we dispensed with covers?" she said, coldly rigid in his arms and a formal smile set in place to hide her discomfort of their closeness.

"No," James rebuked her, it was really the slip up on her part that prompted this ruse, but _he_ wasn't complaining. "We dispensed with one that was of no use and created another that is." Her icy blue eyes turned hard on him, he was enjoying these "covers" a little too much. James turned slightly towards Mathis. "Is he watching?"

Mathis glanced over his shoulder. "Yes."

"Good." James moved in again on Vesper, but she had angrily turned away from him so his lips met with air. Denied, James hung back, knowing such another intimate brush of passion would not have quite as much meaning as the first, or be met with as much hospitality, and he simply watched her fume.

"This is me in character pissed off because you're losing so fast we won't be here past midnight." Her smile had returned, salty as ever and that heavy sarcasm James was becoming well acquainted with. He glanced up when the barman placed his drink on the bar. He reached for the drink that would be more affectionate than the woman before him. "Oddly my characters feelings mirror my own." She said scathingly. James ignored her and sipped at his drink. He savored the taste on his tongue. After strawberries and cream, it tasted somewhat bitter, but a light hint of sweet fruit balanced the flavor.

"You know that's not half bad. I'm going to have to think up a name for that." He looked back at Vesper, who had again turned away from him in reproachful aversion. Apparently nothing she had said got through to him and he was just as engrossed in himself as always. Well, now that wasn't very fair. "It was worth it, to discover his tell."

"What do you mean?" Mathis broke into the rather one-sided conversation.

"The twitch he has to hide when he bluffs." James said lowly.

"Bluffs?" Vesper asked, unable to keep the genuine intrigue out of her voice. "He had the best hand."

"Which he got on the last card. The odds against were 23 to one and he'd know that. When he did his first raise he had nothing. Winning was blind luck." Perhaps that explanation would lend a little more faith to the MI6 agent and his ability to play the game for the doubting accountant. James set his drink back on the bar. "You get the bug?" he asked Mathis.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

James moved off to rejoin those at the poker table, bug in hand and having done what he came for. The martini had not entirely wiped the memory, nor the flavor of her from him just yet. Strawberries and cream. And those brilliant, disbelieving blue eyes staring up at him after that exchange. Sweet and at once, bitter. He would kiss her again before the night was out, that much he promised. James smiled as he sat back in his place for the next hand, though again his mind wandered from the game.

_Vesper_.

Sweet and bitter. Just like his drink.

He was going to name that martini after her.

* * *

**A/N: Geez, I started this story at least a year ago. I'm ashamed it took me so long to post. I actually wanted to write this story all the way to the shower scene and develop their relationship, but the way I see it, if I did attempt to, I would never finish. It's possible that I come back later and write up the rest of it like I originally had planned to do, if I can find the time. It's possible. **

**I was tempted so many times to write from Vesper's point of view too, but I forced myself to stay with James! He was actually very fun to write for. Apparently I like writing egotistical guys.**

**I still love this movie and the whole Bond/Vesper love; Daniel Craig and Eva Green were truly spectacular in their roles and I loved watching them interact. Such a great, tragic romance.**

**Anywho, I hope all who read enjoyed and I'd love to hear from you!**

**Blackfire 18**


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